Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Afghanistan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Reagan Youth to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joyce Sims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Letta Mbulu,
Tomorrow,
Junior Murvin,
Althea and Donna,
Gang Starr,
The Martian,
Leonard Cohen,
X-101,
ABBA,
Maurizio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fugs,
Robert Wyatt,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultimate Spinach,
Shuggie Otis,
Quando Quango,
Subhumans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Angry Samoans,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Sheep,
Roxy Music,
Jerry's Kids,
Black Pus,
Parry Music,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Soft Machine,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Khruangbin,
Banda Bassotti,
Derrick May,
Josef K,
D'Angelo,
Negative Approach,
Underground Resistance,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
R.M.O.,
Bobby Byrd,
Ronnie Foster,
Mantronix,
Livin' Joy,
Boz Scaggs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Scratch Acid,
Yaz,
Maleditus Sound,
Gang Green,
The Mummies,
Terry Callier,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kenny Larkin,
Siglo XX,
Ornette Coleman,
Scientists,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Music Machine,
Adolescents,
A Certain Ratio,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.